


Groping Blindly

by Xyriath



Series: FMA: Twelve Days of Smut [6]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Blindfolds, F/M, Post-Canon, automail kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7450159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are times that Lan Fan feels drawn into a spiral of imperfection, of unworthiness.  On those days, Ling strives for nothing more than he does to show her how wrong that is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Groping Blindly

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Lingfan Week~

Lan Fan’s nostrils flared, tensing, as she shifted, craning her neck.  It didn’t do her any good: no new smells but the clean cloth smell of the bedsheets, the faintness of Ling’s scent ghosting through the air, but providing her no clues to his location.

She exhaled with a huff, twisting again, crinkling her nose this time.  The cloth of the blindfold crinkled with it, bunching between her eyes, and she sighed.  It did nothing, not even coming close to slipping it off.  Or providing her with a better means to track her movements: despite the slight groaning of the walls around her, even though she caught the faintest rustling of the wind outside, Ling didn’t make even a whisper.  Not a rustle of clothing, not a breath, not even a heartbeat.  She couldn’t even detect his ki.  If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought that he had left her alone, lying on the bed, half-dressed and shivering, while he sought out an extra after-dinner snack.

To tell the truth, she began to wonder if that _was_ what had happened, and gripped the sheets with her flesh hand.  She _might_ have to kill him, if that were the case.

But was he watching?  Was he standing there, taking in the sight of her draped on the bed in nothing but underclothes, chest heaving, his eyes gleaming, thinking of every possible way he would take her apart?

The thought left her more than a little warm.

For a moment, she nearly called out, shivering at the sensation of air on her bare skin, but he _had_ told her to be quiet…

Instead of speaking up, she waited just another moment, then lifted her left arm, the automail one, to nudge up her blindfold, just to see—

Though automail reacted to touch, it didn’t react to _proximity_ of touch.  So when a hand darted out, encircling her wrist tightly, she arched off the bed with shock, gasping.

“Ah, ah, Lan Fan,” came the familiar, playfully chastising voice.  “I warned you!  Now look, you’re misbehaving.  You’ve always been so… impatient.”

She froze, not trying to tug away from him, not even breathing.  Ling’s hand loosened, and she felt his thumb and index finger slowly lower her arm to the bed.

“Didn’t I tell you that I’d begin when I was good and ready?” he murmured smoothly, patting the back of her hand as he released it.  “Not when _you_ were.  Goodness, if you had it your way, we’d both be finished and bored by now.”

She pressed her lips together, resisting the urge to protest, to insist that he wasn’t being _fair_ , that he was a little—

And then fingertips ghosted down her stomach, across scars on her ribs, brushing briefly across her hipbones, and she gasped.

The touch had no right to jolt through her the way it did, sending little tendrils of anticipation radiating outward—and downward—but by the time the excruciatingly slight contact made its way up her other side, stopping unfairly short of her breast, her breaths had quickened, her throat tightened.

“Aren’t you a sight,” Ling breathed, the contact abruptly vanishing.  She left out a soft noise of loss, clenching her eyes closed.  His voice had an unfamiliar heaviness to it, almost a huskiness, and it rippled through her like hot chocolate.

The fingertips touched again, this time on her thighs, and she caught a small hum of pleasure from above her as they pressed harder, making full contact, thumbs sliding down the inside and dragging upwards, towards—

She bit her lip, bit back a noise, shifting slightly to open her legs wider.  The fingers gripped harder, leaving her hissing slightly.

“And you like knowing it, don’t you?”  Ling’s voice hitched, and when Lan Fan strained her ears, she caught the sound of his breathing, heavier than before.  “You like knowing that you’re spread out for me, that I’m taking in every bare inch of you, thinking about how you’re going to squirm for me when I finally do touch you.  You like _wanting_ me to touch you, and you like not getting it.”

The touch withdrew with a shocking suddenness, and Lan Fan gasped, arching up, chasing it.  All she received for her troubles was a breathless laugh.

She keened softly, spreading her thighs even wider as she realized that they were trembling.  Lan Fan could smell him now, the faintest wisps of sweat and scented wood; could hear the rapid beat of his heart; could nearly taste the anticipation in the air between them.  And she could _feel_ his eyes raking up every bit of her exposed skin, slowly savoring her as if she were a meal of delicacies to be devoured.

The bed dipped, and Lan Fan gasped softly as the sheets went taut underneath her, straining to sense where he knelt, how close he was—

Bare knees pressed up against the insides of her thighs, and _now_ she knew why she hadn’t heard the rustle of his clothing.

Another dip of the mattress—two this time, actually, one on each side of her head—was the only warning she had before a warm, soft mouth pressed up against her collarbone.  This time, she gasped far louder.

A soft moan, not hers, vibrated down through her neck and chest, and she bit her lip again as it traveled through her, the tingling through her breasts as her nipples tightened, and at the thought of Ling watching, eyes gleaming, as they responded to his touch only made it all happen faster.

“Lan Fan,” he breathed against her skin, and she shivered, arching into his mouth as he moved it down her collarbone, down her chest, tongue flicking out for a moment before he mouthed at her breast.

She did moan, this time, when his teeth nipped gently at it, and she tensed for pain, but what shot through her barely counted as such as he scraped lightly, then sucked, just a bit.

Lan Fan knew very well what he was doing, knew how the red marks would look on her breasts the next day, how she would glance down and flush a terrible red color when she found herself alone, how she would stare in the mirror and slide her fingers up between her thighs at the sight.

When he finally did relent and tug her nipple into his mouth, she choked out a soft cry, still not speaking, as he had forbidden, and clutched the sheets again.

One of Ling’s knees slid up the inside of her thigh, pressing gently, and she jerked, tensing in anticipation…

Slowly, torturously slowly, he pressed it up between her legs, and as she ground down onto him, she felt herself dripping, nearly soaking his knee.  His breath hitched again, and he pressed harder, circling slightly; frissons of a deep, luxurious pleasure rippled up through her abdomen, leaving her gasping, every muscle in her body tightening.

He sucked again, and she cried out, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a moan.

After thoroughly proving his silver-tongued capabilities on both breasts and driving her up the _wall_ with his knee for an unfairly long time, he pulled back.  She could hear him panting even as she trembled, his breath trickling across the streaks of sweat like a breeze.  The only reason she shivered, she told herself, even as she arched again, pleading for more.

And then his mouth latched onto the left side of her lower neck, and she froze.

They hadn’t done this too frequently after she had returned, the sex, and her left arm had always been the elephant in the room.  Never mentioned, never addressed.  A good thing, really: had he tried, initially, she would have bolted without a second thought.  It was difficult enough wondering if the scars made her undesirable now; she didn’t need whatever he might say compounding that fear.

But now, he said nothing.  Instead, he moved his mouth down her neck, tracing its curve to what was left of her shoulder, tongue flicking out and tracing the scars there.

She yelped, recoiling, but Ling’s hand darted up to her stomach to hold her in place.  She froze then, breathing heavily, wondering what the hell he was—

Ling licked again, slowly this time, torturously so.  Every other part in her body forgotten, her senses all concentrated themselves on this one part of her body, one that was only half there, every tiny movement sending another bolt of lightning through her.

“God, Lan Fan,” she heard him whisper, and the unsteady shake in his voice drove her wilder than any skillful touch ever could have.  “You are so beautiful.”

She cried out again, soft and desperate, mind racing wildly with disbelief, that he would look at her here, like this, flesh knotted and scarred, and find her _beautiful._

Though her metal flesh didn’t feel sensation the same as the rest of it, when his lips mouthed over the steel, kissing it, nuzzling at it gently, Ling might as well as have been lavishing attentions on the most sensitive parts of her body, thoroughly seeking her pleasure.  His tongue dragged down one of the steel plates, she tried to tug away again, a halfhearted effort fueled by the momentary frantic thought, “How could he want this?”  Still, he held her in place, murmuring soft, tender nothings against the metal, faint vibrations that left her shaking with want.

And then his other hand slid down her stomach, down her abdomen, the heel of his palm pressing where his knee had so rudely tormented earlier.

Lan Fan hissed and squirmed, which only prompted him to press harder, dragging a finger through the slickness until it brushed up against her clit, pressing down.

She choked, hips jerking down, and he slid his first two fingers inside her, curling upwards expertly even as his mouth worked across metal ridges and rivets.  All she could do was bite her lip, arching helplessly into his ministrations as he kissed her wrist, the back of her hand, on each metal finger.

And then her very warm hip, and thigh, and the _inside_ of that thigh—oh, _gods,_ he was about to—

Ling slowly licked up the path that his fingers had just taken, delving into her like that sumptuous meal he had considered her earlier.  His tongue slid out, warm and full, tracing down her clit, then around it, getting close but not quite close enough as he slid his fingers out, then pressed them back in, starting up a rhythm as he used them to fuck her slowly.

His free hand reached up to squeeze her automail one, and she curled desperate fingers around his own, clinging for dear life as he sunk in further, moved his lips and tongue more eagerly, coaxed her towards a slow, deep pleasure that she knew would be a long time in coming, but far more lasting than anything else he could have planned.

He nudged at the insides of her thighs, and she spread them eagerly, straining the muscles slightly as the vibrations of his chuckle shuddered through her, leaving her writhing.

She couldn’t stop the noises coming from her throat now; moans, gasps, yelps, and with each one, Ling pressed harder, licked faster, groaned louder.  He coaxed her higher, knowing just how to bring her to the brink, then recede again, tormenting her slowly.

And then he pulled back, leaving her shaking with want.

When he slid his hands under her thighs, she lifted them before he could even press, fumbling with her feet for a few moments before managing to hook her heels over his shoulders.  Ling laughed softly, running his hands slowly up, then down her legs, then reached up to squeeze her ass.  She huffed softly at the indulgence, kicking one of her feet gently.

He then, of course, took that moment to thrust into her.

 She _yelled_ , a shocked cry to her earlier soft ones, and tilted her head back, panting.  Ling leaned forward, forcing her legs upwards until they slipped off to the sides, catching them in his arms and wrapping them around his waist as he moved slowly inside her.

As he pulled back and thrust again, excruciatingly slowly, breath ghosted against her bare neck, and a hot tongue dipped into the hollow at her throat, then dragged upwards.  She cried out again as teeth nipped at the spot where her jaw met her neck, then kissed downwards again.

“Gorgeous,” came the husky growl, and the words jolted through her, still catching on her disbelief only to be reinforced by a long, desperate kiss.

She tasted herself on his tongue, opened her mouth eagerly for more of it, of him, and he rocked into her again.  She arched her hips forward and bit his lip, demanding, and he laughed again, the sensation settling warmly in the pit of her stomach.

But still, he thrust again, and again, finally settling into a steady rhythm as he fucked thoroughly into her, opening her up, taking her apart, just as he had promised.

She arched into him as he arched back, bringing them together, their breaths mingling again when they pulled back from the kiss.  He nuzzled at her jaw, then at her shoulder again, the attention to such a vulnerable part sending disbelief flashing wildly through her mind.

“I don’t tell you enough,” Ling groaned, the shake in his voice belying that he was about as close to losing control as she was.  “How lucky I am, Lan Fan, to have you—to have you here, like this, to have you in my life—“

He pressed his lips to the first joint of the automail, thrusting harder, deeper—she had to believe his words, that he _wanted_ her, even like this.  She couldn’t even begin to think of controlling her shaking, whimpering softly as his mouth moved lower, and she clenched the sheets tighter, wanting to keep them down, hard as it was—

“You’re doing so well,” he breathed.  “Listening so well.  I know it’s hard, Lan Fan.”  He said her name like a prayer, a benediction, and just the thought of _Ling Yao_ , heir to the empire of Xing, her lord and master, so blatantly worshipping her…  “But hold them still, just for a little longer.  This is for you.  This is all for you,” he breathed.  “My life.  My everything.”

She _keened._

He had to hold her down again, gently, to keep her from writhing off the bed, and she let out a choked gasp at his fingers pressing into her ribs, his hands sliding up, cupping her breasts.  She arched into the contact, warm and sensuous as he continued to thrust, to take her as thoroughly as he could, singing praises all the while.

He coaxed her through the haze of pleasure, through the gasping, the shaking, up to a peak—

And with a kiss, he tugged her over, crashing into him with ecstasy and fulfilled longing, with closeness and satisfaction, with two mouths and two bodies tangled together as they rode out a wave of raw, overwhelming bliss.

His warmth filled her, and they panted together, breaths catching and gasping, foreheads pressed together as he slid his arms around her shoulders, holding her tightly.

Slowly, he slid his hand up the back of her neck, her head, fingers finally tangling in the blindfold and tugging it off.

His warm, adoring smile, the first thing her exhausted eyes saw, lodged in her chest.  Unable to contain herself for any longer, now that the spell had broken, she lifted her arms, the metal of one barely a flicker of thought through her mind, and wrapped them around his neck.

And when they kissed again, tenderness and desire in every movement, everything right in the universe seemed to fall into place.


End file.
